Malice
by Networker
Summary: Yoshiyuki Kojima decides to attempt the impossible by writing a virus to destroy the National Databank. Jima, already weakened by mechanical problems, is in serious danger. This time, the threat might be too much for even Dita to handle.
1. Symbiosis

_Disclaimer: I do not own "Chobits," and do not claim to._

Chapter One - Symbiosis

For as long as he could remember, Jima seemed to run on alternating cycles of activity and inertia. At times he felt that he could work at full capacity for several weeks straight and never feel the need to stop, but these periods were always followed by a deep exhaustion. When he hit one of these lows, all the strength would drain from him and he could hardly bring himself to move. The only thing he could do was wait it out.

On this night, he was just coming off one of these difficult phases. Although he had regained much of his energy, he still felt a bit dazed and unsteady on his feet. He would have liked to move somewhere else that night, as he had been atop the same high rise for a few weeks now and was beginning to tire of the view, but the world spun around him whenever he tried to get up. Sighing, he stretched his arms behind his head, resigning to the fact that he wouldn't be going anywhere soon. This sudden movement disturbed Dita, who was curled in his lap with her head resting on his stomach. She sat up at once and stared into his eyes, sensing his discomfort.

"Jima, is everything alright?" asked Dita, unable to hide the concern in her voice. She didn't like to see him like this. She desperately wanted to help him feel better, but nothing she tried seemed to work.

"Yes, I suppose," answered Jima, "I'm still a bit weak, but I can tell it's starting to pass." He gave her a smile meant to reassure her and attempted to pull her close again. She resisted and sat back up, taking the connection line from her ear port.

Jima reached out and stopped her hand before she could connect. "What good is that going to do, love? You'll only end up running yourself down." He wrapped his arms around her small frame, hoping she would get the hint and lie down again. Instead, she took Jima by surprise by pinning him against the side of the building. She cupped his chin in her hand and gave him a look for the ages -- fear, confusion, anger, and _sadness_ all in one. Dita was truly a master of wordless communication, whether she realized it or not.

"You don't understand...I have to try." She let her head fall on Jima's shoulder. "I was created to protect you. If you're not feeling well, I should be able to do something about it. If I can't, then I'm useless."

Dita had never been the type to say these kinds of things outright, and Jima was a bit shocked. He pulled her closer, and she buried her face into his coat. "Don't say things like that, Dita, love. It isn't your fault that I get this way, it's just something that happens. You've scanned me dozens of times, but you've never found anything amiss. Do you _want_ something to be wrong with me?"

"Of course not!" snapped Dita. She stared at the street below, deliberately avoiding his gaze. "It's just that..."

Jima took hold of her chin, forcing her to look at him. "What is it, Dita?" He could tell there was something she wasn't telling him.

"It's just that it tears me apart to see you like this! I can't stand not knowing _why_ this happens, and I can't shake the feeling that I might be able to do something about it." She lay back down and put her head on his stomach. Jima sighed again.

"I'm sorry, Jima," said Dita. "I've obviously upset you."

Jima ran his fingers through her hair. "It's alright. There's no need to apologize," he said. "I appreciate your concern, but you should know that I'm not suffering. If I was, I wouldn't hide it from you."

"I know," Dita said. "I just can't help worrying. After all, what would it mean if I _didn't_?" She closed her eyes, listening to the steady, normal clicking of the database inside him. The sound was comforting, and she soon drifted off to sleep.

Jima looked up at the sky, contemplating the stars. He wondered which of the twinkling lights were real and which were satellites, as it was nearly impossible to tell. He found himself unconsciously calculating the coordinates for his location and then searching his database for information on the number of satellites in the area. He found a total of ten, mostly owned by various IT and telecom companies. Artificial stars. Imposters. Fakes. _Unnatural_.

He glanced down at Dita, who still looked a bit uneasy. She was a Persocom, as was he. By definition, they were as unnatural as the satellites hiding among the stars above them. From a distance, they were indistinguishable from the dozens of human faces on the city's crowded streets. If someone took the time to look closer, however, they would see the I/O ports where their ears should be. He wondered how many people out there were still suspicious of Persocoms. As the National Databank, Jima had quite a bit of information about the technology's early days. He looked through these files from time to time, and he once found a collection of news stories about crimes against Persocoms committed by neo-Luddite terrorist groups -- virus writing, random kidnappings and beatings, even several drownings. Something inside him ached when he read about these incidents, as he couldn't understand how people could be so cruel.

Several photographs accompanied the files, and Jima couldn't bear to look at them. He had a glimpse out of morbid curiosity when he first found the folder and became physically ill. His processors went blank, and he was distressed enough for Dita to worry that he'd picked up a virus. He showed the pictures to her when she connected to scan him, and he could tell that she was as shocked as he was. "You're so sensitive, Jima," she had said, trying to brush it off. However, the frightened look in her eyes betrayed her true feelings. As his protection program, Dita had to be thinking about threats to his well-being at all times. When she looked at those pictures, she must have imagined him in place of the victim in every one of them -- collapsed on the ground after a massive viral onslaught, picked apart chip by chip, or pulled up from one of the city's canals. She must have! Why else would she have spent the rest of the night holding him as tightly as she could manage?

Unsettled, he wrapped his arms around Dita, and she yawned and burrowed further into his coat.

At times, Jima felt that he would collapse under the weight of all the information he carried. He was very aware of the modifications done to him so he could do his job as the Databank, but he still worried, perhaps even more so. His processors were the most advanced ever built, but they were overclocked to an excessive and probably unhealthy degree. Dita once told him that he was literally running at the breaking point -- if his processors were pushed any further, he would suffer complete system failure.

His database was made up of eight interconnected, experimental hard drives -- the developers had called them "UHDD's," or "Ultra High Density Disks." Altogether, he currently held over five petabytes of data. He was a stunning piece of technology -- the only computer intelligent enough to pass the Turing test with a perfect score. This, however, was cold comfort when his database was packed nearly to capacity and he was feeling the strain.

Jima suspected that the extreme conditions under which he ran were the cause of his bouts of fatigue, and he also had a serious concern that he was beginning to lose his resilience. Lately, it had been taking his system much longer to recover from glitches and attacks than it had in the past. Hopefully, he would be strong enough to keep fighting, and Dita could help him when...

His thoughts were abruptly cut off by a stab of pain in his temple. He reached up to touch it, and a flash of light streaked across his field of vision. Suddenly, the pain spread to his database and he involuntarily grabbed the railing on the side of the building. "Unnghhh..."

Dita sat up in alarm. "What is it, Jima?" she exclaimed, noticing the hollow look in his eyes.

Jima was in agony, but he was able to choke out a reply. "Hacker!" he yelled. "In the file library!" He closed his eyes and let his head fall against the railing, suddenly lacking the strength to support it.

"Hold on, Jima," said Dita. "I'll get them out of you." She sat up in his lap and unwound her connection line. She plugged it into his ear, and he immediately felt the stress on his system drop. When Dita connected, his resident protection programs automatically switched off, allowing him to focus on keeping his system stable while she did all the work.

It didn't take her long to find the intruder. First, she confirmed the hack by looking at Jima's network activity log -- an unauthorized user with a foreign IP address had indeed entered the system a few minutes prior, likely brute-forcing the password and blowing right through the resident firewall. Knowing this, she searched the system for the offending IP, tracking it down to a point deep inside the file library. Judging by the trail of damage he left in his wake, the hacker didn't seem too concerned with data theft -- this was strictly a "slash and burn" operation designed to do the largest amount of damage in the smallest amount of time. Dita seethed with anger.

Focusing on the intruder's location and IP, she quickly closed in on them. When the time was right, she back-hacked into their system and shut it down with a tremendous jolt. Dita took no pity on _anyone_ that broke into Jima, but she was especially merciless when it came to the senselessly destructive. She would be as rough on them as they were being on him.

When Dita took out the intruder, the effect on Jima was instantaneous. The pain in his database greatly reduced, he loosened his grasp on the railing and reached for Dita instead. He pulled her down onto his chest and kissed her forehead. She watched as the color returned to his eyes and his pained expression faded.

"Good work, Dita, love," he said. "I'm proud of you." He really meant it. Whenever she chased out an intruder, he never failed to be genuinely impressed with the skill and finesse in which she did it. Dita smiled at him, and he kissed her again, this time on the cheek.

"My, my! You're certainly feeling better, aren't you?" teased Dita. She gave him a playful nudge on the shoulder.

"I'm getting there," said Jima. "The attack took a lot out of me, but I know you can get me up and running again in no time."

"Well, I _am _afraid I have a bit of bad news," said Dita. "You've taken some damage to your database. If you're still a bit sore, that's why. I'll need to scan you again to check for any viruses the hacker might have left behind, and then I'll get to work repairing the corrupted files. When you wake up tomorrow morning, everything should be fine again."

"Thank you, Dita," replied Jima. "I think I'll try to sleep now so you can get to work."

He took Dita's hand in his and closed his eyes. He was asleep within moments, and Dita began the long task of cleaning up the mess in his database. She was tired, but she kept herself going by thinking of how much better Jima would feel in the morning. She would work until she collapsed from exhaustion if it meant seeing him back to normal again.


	2. Insomnia

Chapter Two: Insomnia

Yoshiyuki Kojima couldn't get to sleep. He had spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, his mind buzzing with activity. It was the third time that week that sleep had eluded him, and Kojima was beginning to get irritated. He yawned and rolled over in bed, feeling around on the nightstand for his glasses. He put them on and squinted at the clock.

"3 AM? Disgusting," muttered Kojima to the empty room. He got out of bed and put on his bathrobe.

The programmer made his way down the hallway and into the familiar confines of his study. He walked over to his mainframe computer and flipped the power switch. The machine whirred to life. While the system loaded, Kojima flipped through some notebooks he had spread out on his desk. He had been trying to write a new computer virus for the past few weeks, but the coding was giving him trouble. He had made several prototypes that appeared promising, but they had all failed spectacularly during the test phase.

The first experiment, run a few weeks prior, had resulted in severe registry damage. Because Kojima wanted his virus to be as subtle as possible, this presented an obvious problem. He set to work modifying the code, meticulously tweaking every detail.

The most recent test had been performed the previous afternoon, and Kojima's temper flared just thinking about it. Everything had been ready. The code was polished, checked, and re-checked. However, when the program was downloaded onto the test Persocom, it immediately lost its ability to connect to the internet or any other network. Until that point, the programmer had been giddy with the prospect of a successful run, but the grin was immediately wiped from his face when he realized what had happened. Not only was it frustrating, but it made no sense. Kojima had shredded the Persocom's protection programs in an experiment with another virus, so it couldn't have been a defense tactic. Furthermore, he had been able to connect with no problems prior to running the test. This left his coding as the only possible source of the glitch, but he had no idea where it could have gone wrong. It was frustrating to say the least, especially for a veteran like Kojima.

The mainframe was now fully booted, and Kojima cast aside his notes. He quickly logged into the system and pulled up his work module. After the last failure, he lost his temper and went on a rampage in the study. He kicked over his chair, knocked the papers off his desk, smashed a few cups and plates, and threw a book at the test Persocom hard enough to break the outer casing on its I/O port. Then, he went over to his mainframe and deleted the file that contained the code, thinking it completely worthless. Now, as he worked from the ground up to reprogram the virus, he deeply regretted the outburst. If he hadn't deleted it, he could have simply looked over the details until he found the glitch. He couldn't undo what he had done, however, so he just had to deal with it.

"I don't understand why I can't figure this out," he said aloud. "This is nothing more than a remote personal-data relayer, which any script kiddie in their parents' basement could figure out how to make."

Kojima heaved an exasperated sigh and leaned back in his chair. He wasn't having any moments of clarity, and his lack of sleep wasn't helping. He was so dazed that the lines of code had begun to run together in an unintelligible mess. Turning away from the screen, he rubbed his eyes and returned to his notebook. Kojima had reached the end of his patience, and he poured over his original notes for any missing lines of code or bad commands, forgetting for a moment that none of his alterations over the past few weeks were recorded. Annoyed, he abandoned the notebook, tossing it roughly on the floor. "That's enough!" he yelled, "I've had it!"

Turning back to the computer, Kojima exited out of the application and opened his web browser. He was a longtime member of the "Tech Underground" BBS, an internet message board devoted to everything related to Persocoms and computing, and he often visited the site when his projects stressed him out. He found that forcing himself to think about the questions raised on the board cleared his mind and eased his frustration. Of course, it was often an exercise in _schadenfreude_ as well. After all, what better place could there be for a virus writer? Through the board, he often heard about the results of his creations firsthand. The more detail in the story, the better it was. He especially liked the postings where the owners of stricken Persocoms described what happened step-by-step, and he once was lucky enough to find a real-time account of a fight with his data-shredder "MotokoB." That had been one of his early ones, but it packed a punch despite its age --- the Persocom was taken down rather violently. When the thread was finished, he printed it out and stuck it in his desk drawer, its near-pornographic detail a testament to his power.

Kojima's username was "Dragonfly," a nickname that had been with him since childhood. He had been an avid player of the online role-playing game "ForeverQuest" when he was younger, and each user needed a unique ID in order to play. He chose the name "Dragonfly" because he thought it would make him seem cunning and powerful. Even at a young age, Kojima was driven by his desire for influence. He got other children from his neighborhood into the game, but he insisted on picking their names for them. Predictably, he gave them monikers like "Gnat" and "Mosquito."

His boyhood friends stopped playing the game one by one, but they still called him Dragonfly. The nickname had stuck throughout high school and college, and Kojima answered to it as if it were his real name.

Scanning the topic list, he looked for any threads that might pique his interest. There didn't appear to be any new postings about his viruses, although he did find a copy of a government warning about some new exotic out of Eastern Europe. Kojima had been in contact with a hacking ring from Moldova for several months, and he knew they had been planning something big --- this had to be it. He felt a pang of jealousy as he read the report, which mentioned that a government server had already been hit hard.

After finishing the message, Kojima went to his profile and checked for any replies to his recent postings. Finding none, he entered the chat room on a lark, expecting nobody to be there at such an odd hour. He glanced at the active-user list and was surprised to find that Minoru Kokubunji, his old rival, was signed on and available.

Minoru represented everything that Kojima hated. They had known each other for years and had fought for almost as long. Not only did Minoru actively try to fix security holes in networks and take down Kojima's viruses, but he believed that Persocoms should be treated like people! This was the most ridiculous thing that Kojima had ever heard. To him, a Persocom was something to bend to his will. It was _not _a companion.

"Well, well," said Kojima. "Looks like Kokubunji can't sleep either."


	3. Minoru and Kojima Chat

Chapter Three: Minoru and Kojima Chat

When Minoru Kokubunji started a new project, he often let it consume him. He would work through the day and well into the night, ignoring everything but the task at hand. It was not uncommon for time to get away from him as he worked, so it didn't come as much of a surprise when he glanced at his watch and found it well past 3 AM.

His current project was a program designed to remotely analyze networks for security vulnerabilities. It had been in the works for more than a year, but only now had Minoru been able to dedicate any time to it. He had been forced to put it aside in favor of programs ordered by his clients, who had deep pockets but shallow patience. The demand for Minoru's coding was almost as high as for his legendary hacking abilities -- the difference, of course, was that he freely advertised the former. The latter, as he made very clear to prospective clients, was strictly a privilege granted to those that truly needed it.

Although the program was coming along nicely, Minoru had been working for several continuous hours and his accuracy was beginning to deteriorate. He caught himself making small, obvious errors in the code -- missing backslashes, unclosed parenthesis, or needlessly repeated commands. He knew that he wouldn't be making these mistakes if he were more alert. Quite reluctantly, Minoru resigned himself to taking a break.

The programmer got up from his chair and stretched his arms behind his head. He rubbed his eyes, suddenly aware of how long he had been sitting at his desk. Yuzuki had fallen asleep hours ago, tired of waiting for him to abandon his work and come to bed. She was lying on the sofa at the other end of his study, curled in a ball with her face buried in the seat cushion. Minoru felt a pang of guilt as he looked at her -- he had been so busy, he hadn't sat down and had an actual conversation with her in days. When he had graduated from college a few years earlier, he vowed to never let work come between him and those he cared about. He recalled this promise as he thought of how he'd acted over the past few days and his guilt deepened. "Well, it looks like _that_ was a great success," he muttered bitterly.

Minoru stepped out of the room, taking care not to slam the door behind him. He decided that he should have some tea to clear his mind, and he walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. He filled the tea-maker with water and rummaged around in the cupboard for the tea. He found it after a small struggle and emptied the powder into the machine. The maid Persocoms usually did things like this for him, and Minoru felt embarrassingly out of his element. There was a copy of _Connected_ magazine on the counter, and he picked it up and flipped through the articles while he waited for the tea to brew. He was halfway through a piece about the implications of increasing virus outbreaks on global commerce when the timer on the machine went off, startling him a bit. He poured the tea into a carafe and cleaned up the kitchen, taking the magazine along with him to finish later. The article he'd been reading couldn't have come at a better time -- Minoru's new security program would be ready for beta testing in the coming weeks, just in time for the inevitable wave of hysteria the article would spark among network administrators.

Minoru walked back toward his study, entering the room as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing Yuzuki. He took his tea and sat back down at his desk. Resisting the urge to resume work on the program, he opened his web browser instead. He needed to completely detach himself from work or risk becoming immersed in it again. He figured that a bit of aimless surfing would be good for him, so he clicked around various news and entertainment sites before returning to his old haunt -- the Tech Underground message board.

Minoru had discovered the forum after searching for information on Persocom customization many years before. To test the board's knowledge, he had posted several high-difficulty questions under the username "M." The board's regulars gave quick and competent answers to these questions, and he was impressed. He decided to become a permanent member of the community, soon building a reputation for giving sound and rational advice. He didn't visit the board as often as he used to in recent years, but he still checked it from time to time. He liked to challenge himself with the often-obtuse tech support questions posed by new users, but he also liked reading the entertaining banter exchanged between forum regulars.

After logging in, Minoru scanned the topic list in search of a good puzzle. He didn't see anything particularly interesting, however, and he was admittedly disappointed. He clicked out of the forum and entered the chat room, knowing that it was unlikely that he would have any company.

Predictably, Minoru was met with an empty chat room. He waited there for a few minutes hoping for someone to join him -- after all, Tech Underground _was_ a global community that spanned several time zones -- but the prospects didn't look good. He picked up the issue of _Connected_ again and returned to the article, though he left the chat window open so he'd notice if anyone decided to show up. He was almost finished reading when the site's user counter beeped.

His visitor was Yoshiyuki Kojima, signed in under his old handle "Dragonfly." Kojima was also a regular on the board, but unlike Minoru, he seldom showed his true nature when posting. Security professionals consistently ranked him among the most dangerous Internet criminals in the world, but he hid behind his familiar and ubiquitous username and gained the trust of board members with his wit and charm. There was never any doubt that Kojima was smooth -- even Minoru forgot who he was talking to at times -- but that's what made him so dangerous. Tech Underground regulars, who followed the news and read _Connected_ religiously, doubtlessly knew quite a bit about Kojima's exploits. However, those charmed by his computer expertise and sense of humor refused to believe that "Dragonfly" could be the same person as the man thought to be behind four of the five most destructive viruses currently burning their way through the Persocom population.

Minoru didn't really want to talk to Kojima, seeing as he was tired and his patience was wearing thin, but he was never very good at ignoring him. He found Kojima's behavior appalling, but he couldn't help being fascinated with the Black Hat. As a security consultant, Minoru wanted to know what made the man tick so he could unravel his schemes before they came to fruition, but his fascination went beyond the academic. Above all, he wanted to know why someone could harbor such malice toward Persocoms. While most darkside hackers had long moved on to the more lucrative endeavors of data theft and botnet management, Kojima dealt only with destruction. Most, if not all, of his malware was designed to be lethal. He had a particular knack for writing shredder viruses -- programs that brought about sudden, agonizing data loss and eventual system failure. Members of Kojima's cracking ring, "Circuitry," often criticized this preference for destruction as a fruitless obsession with the cinematic, but Kojima cared very little about what they thought. In fact, as Minoru often noted, he seemed to fetishize his ability to cause Persocoms horrific pain. This pathology, more than any desire to predict Kojima's moves, was what kept Minoru from breaking off contact with the Black Hat. He wanted to uncover a reason for Kojima's cruelty, but he hadn't found any real clues in all the years they'd known each other.

**Dragonfly: **Can't sleep, Kokubunji?

Minoru set the magazine on the floor and pulled his chair closer to the keyboard. He could sense that Kojima was up to something, and he was going to find out what it was.

**M: **No, I've been working on a program and time got away from me.

**Dragonfly:** What a coincidence! Me as well.

**M:** You've been working on a program?

**Dragonfly: **Yes.

Minoru frowned, knowing that Kojima could only be referring to a new virus. The security professional in him craved details, and he decided to try to get the Black Hat to spill information by playing to his ego.

**M:** Really? What kind of program is it?

**Dragonfly:** Well, what kind do you _think_ it is?

**M:** I'm not a mind-reader, Kojima.

**Dragonfly:** Well, that's certainly true!

**Dragonfly: **I mean, of course, that if you could really read my mind, you'd have stopped my last creation. "Annihilator.K" -- remember her?

**M:** How can I forget? My last big fight was with that nasty little virus of yours.

**Dragonfly:** Really? Do tell.

Minoru laughed to himself. It appeared that Kojima was headed right where he wanted him to go.

**M:** Are you sure you want the details? This one got a little gory.

**Dragonfly:** I'm not averse.

**M:** Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you.

**Dragonfly: **Of course, of course.

**M: **Well, where do you want me to start?

**Dragonfly:** The very beginning. I want to know _everything_.

**M:** Alright, then. It was around 23:00 last Thursday, and I was at home watching a movie with Yuzuki. It was a cheap cyberpunk film, but it was entertaining and we were pretty into it. It was just about over when the phone suddenly rang. Long story short, it turned out to be a call from the head of Information Technologies over at Ichiban Communications.

**Dragonfly:** The internet service provider?

**M:** That's the one. Well, he was quite upset, and I repeatedly had to tell him to calm down so I could make sense of what he was saying. He explained that he was in the middle of a serious crisis -- one of the company's servers (which he was directly responsible for) had suddenly developed serious problems, and he had no idea what had gone wrong. All he knew was that a security breach might have been involved, since the office network's firewall had logged some strange activity immediately before the server started having trouble.

**Dragonfly:** Not an unreasonable assumption. What did you say to that?

**M:** I told him that I suspected an intrusion, but it would be hard for me to guess what was wrong with the server unless I came down to the office myself. He wasn't quick to give me any details on the Persocom's condition, so I decided to get back into my work clothes and go downtown to see the poor thing myself. If the problem was serious enough to warrant a call so late, it probably needed immediate attention.

**Dragonfly:** Again, not an unreasonable assumption.

**M:** When I got to the office, the IT executive I'd spoken with was waiting outside for me. He was very agitated, and I noticed that his hands were shaking a bit. He didn't say much to me during the elevator ride upstairs, but he did thank me for coming on such short notice. When we got to our floor, he stepped out before me and opened the glass door to the server room. The network appeared to be down, as the room was completely silent. He led me over to the corner of the room, where a Persocom lay curled on the floor. She was wearing the company's uniform -- a short-sleeved black shirt with a pin bearing the company's logo and a short, black skirt -- and was quite pretty. The executive told me her name was Mayuko and that she was the company's principal server. She had recently taken on the customer database as well, but she had been handling it extremely well until that night. Then, after a few mild-looking firewall disturbances, she had suddenly started losing data. A lot.

**Dragonfly:** Awwww. What a shame.

**M:** Don't get smug. Anyways, I asked to see a copy of the firewall's records, and he went to retrieve them. While he was out of the room, I cautiously approached the stricken Persocom. I knelt beside her and placed my hand on her forehead. "Hey there, Mayuko," I said. "What's wrong?" She mumbled something incoherently and grabbed at my suit jacket. I could tell she was in a lot of pain, and her general distress (along with the problems the executive had described) made me strongly suspect she was hit by a shredder virus. My suspicions were confirmed when the executive returned with the firewall's event logs, which showed definite abnormal behavior that was very suggestive of a hack attack.

**Dragonfly:** Very good! You truly must be as smart as you make yourself out to be.

**M:** You're a regular comedian, Kojima.

**Dragonfly:** Hey, I try.

**M: **Getting on with the story, I recommended that we set up a closed system and at least try to get Mayuko's countermeasures running. The girl must have realized there was something very wrong at once, since she had been quick enough to disconnect herself from the network before the virus could spread further. This made my work much easier, and I commended her on her foresight. In response, she only whimpered and locked her arms around her middle. I felt so sorry for her -- shredder viruses are terrible things. I wanted to work quickly so she wouldn't have to suffer much longer, so I ordered the executive to start setting up a crude, limited network that I could use to gain access to her system without infecting the rest of the office. He ran off to do this, and I was again left alone with Mayuko. I asked her what she had been doing before she was attacked, but she didn't answer -- she was unable to speak. Her hard drive was making a nasty grinding sound, which almost always means big trouble. I began to doubt that I could save her.

**Dragonfly:** It was just a Persocom. Why do you let these things get to you so much?

**M:** And why do _you_ have to be so cold? In the past, computer security had to do with protecting people's privacy and preventing costly attacks on business networks. It was still fascinating and important work, but it was largely impersonal -- after all, who ever cried over a crashed mainframe? Now, with the advent of Persocoms, the rules have completely changed. The network can literally talk to you. It has a personality. It can feel pain. It is very close to being just as alive as we are, Kojima. _That_ is why it bothers me to see Persocoms suffer. Why can't you understand?

**Dragonfly:** But they aren't _really_ alive. Nobody's ever gone to prison for killing a Persocom.

**M:** Maybe so, but you _can_ be thrown in prison for writing viruses, so I'd watch out if I were you.

**Dragonfly:** Is that right! In that case, I'll be sure to cover my tracks well. Anyways, enough with this moralistic nonsense! Get on with the story, Kokubunji.

**M:** As you wish. However, I want to know something from _you_ in return.

Minoru was amazed at how well his plan was working. Now he had leverage. As long as he kept feeding him infoporn, he would have the Black Hat's undivided attention. If he threatened to pull the plug before the climax, Kojima would talk.

**Dragonfly:** What are you talking about? What do you want to know?

**M:** Your new program. What does it do?

**Dragonfly:** I thought we already talked about this.

**M:** You didn't tell me anything.

**Dragonfly:** And I'm not going to!

**M:** Well, that's your choice. However, if you're not going to talk, I'm done here.

**Dragonfly:** What? You haven't finished the story!

**M:** That's right. I'm done unless you hold up your end of the deal and tell me about the program.

**Dragonfly:** That's not fair!

**M:** Goodnight, Kojima.

Minoru waited, staring at the screen. He knew that it wouldn't be long before Kojima caved. Sure enough, he got a frantic reply after he'd let a few minutes go by.

**Dragonfly:** Kokubunji! Are you still there?

**Dragonfly:** I can't take it!

**Dragonfly:** I'll tell!

A grin spread across Minoru's face. "Just as I thought!" he said to no one in particular. "Do I know him or do I know him?"

**M:** I'm glad you've reconsidered.

**M: **Tell me what _I_ want to hear, and I'll tell you what _you_ want to hear.

**Dragonfly:** Alright.

**Dragonfly:** I've been working on a program for Circuitry. They wanted me to write a personal-data relayer, since we're a bit short on money.

**M:** A glorified keylogger? Kojima, I must say I'm disappointed. I thought that wasn't your style.

**Dragonfly:** It isn't. As I said, Circuitry wanted me to write it.

**M: **Once you release it, it'll only take me a few hours to crack it. Relayers aren't very complicated programs, you know. Before you know it, I'll have contacted every security firm in the business, and your little program will be extinct. Syntech will publish the fix and send the definition file to everything in the world that's running Norman AntiVirus, and most of your potential victims will be immune.

**Dragonfly:** Is that a challenge?

**M:** Perhaps. However, the way I see it, I'm just telling you the honest truth.

**Dragonfly:** I'll just have to make it harder to crack, then.

**M**: You go right ahead and do that.

**Dragonfly: **Alright, enough of this chatter. I told you what you wanted, so tell me the rest of the story!

**M:** Well, there isn't much more to tell. The executive finished setting up the closed network, and I connected Mayuko to it and had a look around her hard drive. It was in a very bad state, with lots of data corruption and hundreds of bad sectors. She was running Norman Internet Security, which was still functional although failing to attack the invasion. In fact, it reacted more to me poking around in the system than it did to the virus taking it over. I checked the activity logs and discovered the name of the enemy -- "Annihilator.K." Your creation, as I understand it.

**Dragonfly**: Sure is. I'm so proud of her.

**M:** Typical. Anyway, I tried to get Mayuko's countermeasures to attack the malware, but no commands I tried seemed to do anything. I began to suspect that her drive was too far gone and her CPU too damaged for my actions to be of any help. I apologized to the executive, explaining that the server had taken extensive damage and would probably not make it through the night. To my relative surprise, he broke down and cried. I thought that he was worried about losing his job, so I assured him that I'd tell his superiors that the incident was an accident. This didn't seem to calm him down any, and he went over to where Mayuko lie and sat next to her. He took her in his arms and rocked her like a baby. It was a terrible sight, Kojima, and I hope you realize that you're to blame for their agony. I found out later that Mayuko and the executive had been in a relationship for more than a year, although they could only meet in private because of company regulations.

**Dragonfly:** And you expect me to care?

**M:** I can't believe how brutal you are, Kojima. It really amazes me sometimes.

**M:** The end was horrible and drawn-out. Mayuko's system fell to pieces. First, her protection software stopped responding. Then, the hard drive stopped spinning. She lost her cooling liquid all over the floor and her CPU started to melt. That's what finally did her in. The executive was in shock, still holding her and refusing to believe the previous hours' events had actually happened. According to Ichiban, he put in his letter of resignation the next day. I, on the other hand, went home feeling drained and dejected. It never feels good to lose a fight, but I took this one personally.

**Dragonfly:** And that's how it ends?

**M:** Yes. Satisfied?

**Dragonfly:** Yeah, that was a good one. Lots of detail and drama, just how I like it.

**M:** You're...incredible.

**M:** Goodbye, Kojima.

Minoru felt dirty. Kojima's reaction to the story wasn't unexpected by any means, but he couldn't help being amazed at the Black Hat's sadism. If he was capable of getting off on something as awful as the incident at Ichiban (which was by far the worst thing Minoru had seen in his years as a security consultant), then what was he really capable of? It was only a matter of time before he did something truly horrible. The night's chat hadn't given Minoru any more clues about the source of Kojima's pathology, but he did gain a few more unsettling insights into his personality that might prove useful in the future. He had also successfully manipulated Kojima into giving up information on his latest virus, which would likely prove child's play to crack.

Too agitated to sleep, the White Hat resumed work on his program with a renewed sense of purpose.


	4. The Great Beyond

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter takes place about a month after the previous one._

Chapter Four: The Great Beyond

It was sunset, and Dita sat at the edge of the roof, looking out at the city from behind a low railing. The orange light reflected off the sides of glass skyscrapers, giving the streets a dull glow. The sight was admittedly beautiful, though Dita was too distracted to notice it much. Her mind had returned, as it had countless times before, to an incident that had occurred a few days earlier:

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It had been early morning, and she was fast asleep. All of a sudden, Jima gave her a gentle nudge and she opened her eyes. She blinked a few times and looked up at him.

"What's the matter? Is there something going on?" she asked, carefully watching his expression.

Jima slipped his hands around Dita's waist and leaned his head against her neck. "I think there is, Dita, love," he whispered. "Can you tell?"

She turned around to get a better look at him. He was wearing his dark sunglasses, and Dita pulled them down so she could see his eyes. At first glance, she didn't find anything amiss. However, she soon noticed that his eyes had lost a bit of their color. The change wasn't as dramatic as during a hack, but some of the sharpness was missing nonetheless.

"Yes, I can tell you're not quite yourself," Dita replied after a short silence, trying to suppress the alarm in her voice. "What's happening?"

Jima shifted roughly, letting himself lie flat against the ground. Dita felt herself being pulled down with him, and she let herself fall. Jima took one of her hands and pressed it against his middle. Dita could feel that his database array was warmer than usual, and something else too -- perhaps a slight tremor that wasn't there before?

"I'm having a bit of database trouble. Things aren't working right. I keep having a delay when I move data and the Ministry called me earlier today to complain about intermittent service time-outs. However, what concerns me more than that is this rolling pain in my array I get from time to time. I'll think I'm doing better and then it just hits me."

Dita sighed and closed her eyes, processing what Jima had just told her. "Poor thing," she whispered. She carefully lay down and rested her ear on the spot her hand had previously been. She could hear the drive array clicking, though the sound wasn't as uniform as it normally was. "How long has this been going on?"

Jima paused for a few moments before replying. "It's been about two weeks now, I think."

This stopped Dita cold. "What? Two weeks? You've been having database problems for _two weeks_ and you haven't told me until now? _And I never noticed until now?_" her voice trailed off.

Another long silence from Jima followed, which Dita found exasperating. "Are you going to answer me?" she snapped. Still no response came, and she was about to yell at him when she heard his insides make an unhealthy-sounding noise -- somewhere between a _pop_ and a _clunk_ -- followed by the platters in his array literally grinding to a halt. Dita suddenly realized why Jima hadn't answered her.

She sat up at once, quickly unspooling her connection line and plugging it into Jima's ear. His eyes were closed tightly, though he relaxed a bit when she connected. "It's alright," she said. "It's just a jam-up, it will pass." She sat down and took his hands in hers, holding them until the fit was over. After a few more minutes, the platters started spinning again and he opened his eyes. He was exhausted and dazed from the shock, but his system was slowly returning to normal. He wasn't strong enough to sit up yet, so he rolled over on his side to face Dita. When he had recovered enough to speak, he finally answered her question. "I didn't tell you I was having a problem because I thought it might go away on its own. I didn't want to worry you. I gave it some time, and it still hasn't gotten any better." He brought a hand to his forehead. "I don't feel well at all, Dita, love."

Dita felt herself beginning to panic, but she quickly pushed the feeling out of her mind and concentrated on helping Jima. "It's okay now," she said. "I'll figure out what's wrong and find a way to fix it." Jima closed his eyes and whispered "I just want it to stop."

"I know," she replied. "I want it to stop too."

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Jima didn't have any more episodes that day, and he appeared to be doing much better in the days afterward as well. He still seemed a bit fragile, but he wasn't losing any data and the worrisome lag he had experienced when executing the government's queries had all but disappeared. Despite these improvements, however, Dita remained uncomfortable. She couldn't stop thinking about the incident, and her mind returned to it whenever she had a moment to herself. She was especially haunted by Jima's revelation that he had been having trouble for two weeks. Fourteen days. She dwelled on the number, re-living the days one by one. She remembered that she and Jima had walked around the park before settling down atop a building near the riverfront exactly two weeks before the incident. She found herself wondering when the problem had hit him that day and what it might have felt like. She reasoned that it must have happened late at night when she was asleep, since she would have noticed something amiss otherwise. She didn't understand why Jima didn't wake her up immediately when he felt something going wrong. Even though she'd already heard his excuse, she couldn't even begin to trace how his logic program (if he even had one) had manufactured it.

Dita sighed and turned away from the city, leaning back against the railing. She closed her eyes and folded her arms over her middle. She had been so upset over Jima's incident that her own hard drive had begun to ache in sympathy, and she also had the impression that the world had gotten a bit darker over the past few days. To her horror, she realized that she was feeling something that logic couldn't entirely explain. It went against her programming. She was designed to be level-headed, detached, and professional. Right now, she was none of the above. The thought made her feel clammy and loose inside.

"Come on, Dita," she muttered to herself. "You are a logic-based Persocom. A _computer_. Pull yourself together." She stood up and paced a few times, her hands over her face. When she had calmed down a bit, she glanced over at Jima, who was curled up on a bench in the building's neglected roof garden. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully, though she couldn't really tell for sure. She wanted to wake him up and talk to him about the incident in hopes of exorcising her demons, but she knew he needed his rest. Despite this, she walked over to where he lie and sat on the ground next to the bench.

Ever since their first night together, Dita thought Jima was disarmingly gorgeous when he was sleeping. He had the longest, most beautiful eyelashes she'd ever seen on a Persocom, and he would often mumble and twitch in his sleep in a way that Dita found adorable. Of course, she would never admit this to Jima or anyone else out of fear of being seen as silly or irrational, but she couldn't stop herself from thinking these things either. It simply happened.

On this evening, however, she found little comfort in watching him sleep. When she looked at him, all she could think about was the pain he had lived with for fourteen days. She sighed deeply and looked away, grimly realizing that she would be crying right now if she were human. Furthermore, if she were human, she would probably know how to better express these feelings she'd been having. These thoughts made her feel even more uncomfortable, and she tried to forget about them by returning her attention to Jima. She felt that she would go completely insane if she didn't tell him about the things that were running through her head, and she gently touched his cheek to wake him up.

"Jima?" she said. "Can you get up for a bit? I need to talk about something."

The database server opened his eyes slowly, returning from standby. He gave a little smile when he saw Dita, but he was a bit concerned when his protector didn't return the gesture. He sat up immediately, no longer feeling relaxed. "What's wrong, Dita, love?" he asked.

She got up and sat next to him on the bench. "I can't sleep," she replied. Not quite grasping the situation, Jima grinned and pulled her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and said "Awwww, why not? Is my system being too noisy? I'm so sorry, I think I'm still running a bit rough." He pretended to hiccup, then patted his middle. "Oh, my! Do excuse me!" he said with a wink. Dita didn't laugh with him, and he began to realize that something wasn't right with her. He stopped laughing. "I'm just having a bit of fun, Dita, love. I feel fine, nothing to worry about."

Dita sat up, avoiding eye contact. She took a moment to collect her thoughts and finally spoke. "Well, Jima, that's exactly what I want to talk about." She looked at him again and he tilted his head to one side, wondering where she was going with this. "We haven't discussed the...ummmm..._incident_ in any depth yet."

Jima bit his lip. "Alright, love, we'll talk about it. What do you want to know?" He could tell she was very troubled, and he wanted to put her at ease. If it took telling her the details, he would do it.

"Well...when did it start? Was it really as bad as I think it was? Why did you hide it from me?" she asked, allowing herself to fall back into Jima's lap again. He held her and played with her hair as he thought about what to say. "Alright, I'll handle these questions one by one and I won't hide anything, since I know that's the only way you'll have it." Dita sighed and Jima kissed her forehead to make her more comfortable. "As I told you before, my database problems went on for two weeks. The trouble started about two Thursdays ago -- you know, the day we were over by the river. I felt fine all day, and I genuinely enjoyed being out in the park with you and having a break from our usual routine. That night, however, something went wrong and I couldn't tell you why. I was sleeping, and I was suddenly jolted awake by some really nasty pain in my database. Now, I didn't know if it was a hack or not at that point, so I lay there being very still and tried to feel whether someone was picking through my files. When I determined that I wasn't being hacked, I decided to wait out whatever it was because fluke things sometimes happen to me -- as the government puts it, I have a 'delicate constitution.' Well, I lay there for a little while longer and this nasty feeling wasn't going away. I contemplated waking you, but I didn't want to make you upset. I was telling the truth the other day when I explained why I didn't tell you about my little problem. In hindsight, I probably should have just told you and had you take care of me, but you know what they say about hindsight."

Dita still felt that strange, cold feeling in the back of her mind, but she was finally beginning to see where Jima's mind had been that night. He had done it for _her_, as he was only trying to spare her a night of worrying. She had to admit it was sweet of him, though reckless, since he could have seriously damaged himself if it had been an emergency. She would have liked to take care of him, though, or at least have prevented him from suffering alone. "I agree with what they say about hindsight. Don't ever do something like that again." she said. There was _no way_ she was letting on that she found his behavior strangely endearing.

Jima smiled at her and nodded. "I understand. I was foolish." He paused for a moment before continuing his story. "Well, there's not much more to tell. For the next two weeks, my system just wasn't working properly. The problem was very subtle, which explains how I could hide it from you so well. I know you think that I was in constant agony the whole time, but that wasn't how it was at all. There were good days and bad days. Sometimes, I even forgot that I wasn't well. Other times, I really felt awful. I guess it depended on how much strain was being put on my system. I really had trouble executing queries, though, and the Ministry got so irritated by the time-outs and service lags that they called me up and shouted at me to 'kick it into gear.' All I could really tell them was that I was trying, which was the truth." He laughed roughly. "All in all, though, it really wasn't the fourteen days of torture you're making it out to be. Please calm yourself, love. Besides, I'm finally better -- I think that big jam-up the other day straightened me out somehow, since the trouble left as mysteriously as it came."

Dita rested her face against Jima's middle, listening to his array click. Sure enough, the sound was strong and steady. There was still something making her feel uneasy, though. "Jima?" she said, "How do you know it's over for good?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't upset her too much. "Well, love, I don't. It could come back tomorrow, or I could get a virus or even crash. Nobody knows what the Universe is going to throw at them, and that's true whether you're a Persocom or a human." He sat up and looked into the sky, which had gone from orange to purple and finally black over the course of their conversation. There was a full moon, and the stars were visible despite the city lights. The sight of them made Jima feel something he couldn't quite pin down. He carefully stood up and walked to the edge of the roof, and Dita followed. Keeping his eyes on the sky, he pulled her close and pushed her body against his so that there was no space between them. He carefully placed his hand underneath her chin and tilted her head so her gaze was fixed on the moon. "Can you feel the Universe?" he asked, trembling slightly.

Dita was bewildered. She didn't know what he meant, and she was now pretty convinced that there wasn't a logic program anywhere in his programming. However, her head had spun a little when he pulled her against him, so perhaps she _did_ feel something. The night sky _was_ beautiful, after all, and Jima was so soft and warm...

"Yes," she said without thinking. "I can."

Jima closed his eyes and embraced her tightly. "I knew you could," he said. He was _really_ shaking now. Noticing this, Dita said "You're really getting worked up -- you need to lie down before you make yourself sick." Jima smiled and waved his hand dismissively. "You don't need to worry about me. I feel better now than I ever have before. Just stay with me like this for a while longer and I'll forget all about the past two weeks."

That was exactly what Dita wanted to hear, so she had no choice but to embrace him back.


	5. Electric Sin City

Chapter Five: Electric Sin City

It was late, and Yoshiyuki Kojima was pushing his way through the crowds in Akihabara, cell phone in hand. He was on his way to "Cyberpunk," one of the district's most popular nightclubs, where he was meeting some fellow Black Hats from Circuitry. The main purpose of the get-together was for Kojima to hand over his new information-stealing virus, which had been a contract job for the money-starved hacking ring, but he had every intention of mixing business with pleasure. Akihabara made Kojima feel alive -- he loved its chaos and violence, and almost everyone knew that Akihabara girls had no inhibitions to speak of. The place was shameless, and Kojima reveled in the freedom it gave him.

For about a century and a half, Akihabara had been known as Denki Gai -- "Electric Town." This nickname arose from the neighborhood's original claim to fame back in the 20th Century -- seemingly endless rows of storefronts and street vendors, all offering vast amounts of cheap electronics. Over time, the area became a haven for Tokyo's _otaku_ counterculture, as the innumerable arcades and geek-friendly shops lured the gamers, hobbyists, and anime enthusiasts that defined what it meant to be _otaku_ in the early 21st Century. However, despite its bright lights and enthusiasm for all things cute, Akihabara had never really been all that innocent. Even in those days, the area had a slightly lurid air. The only other thing, it seemed, that the _otaku_ consumed with as much fervor as anime and video games was pornography, and adult stores began popping up by the dozens. Prostitution soon flourished in the area, but with a twist unique to the neighborhood and its unusual demographic. It wasn't unusual, for example, to see prostitutes dressed up as anime or game characters, popular celebrities, or even in elaborate outfits meant to imitate the fashion found in trendy neighborhoods such as Harajuku. Not surprisingly, the arrival of prostitution also meant the arrival of organized crime. By the end of the century, Akihabara was no longer a gathering place for geeks -- it had become the center of Tokyo's criminal underground, with the _Yakuza_ and the city's burgeoning cybercriminal culture both wielding considerable power in the area. It was a dizzying wonderland of sex and bleeding-edge technology, a place where anything could be bought for the right price.

Kojima pressed his phone closer to his ear, struggling to hear over the din of the crowd. One of the casinos, "Ningyo Hime," was putting on its annual gala -- a three-day extravaganza of top-shelf entertainment and free gambling credits -- and to say it was popular would be a gross understatement. Hundreds of drunken revelers packed the streets, whooping and hollering. Kojima ducked into an alleyway, where he hoped the noise would be muffled enough for him to finish the conversation without having to scream into the receiver.

He was talking to Ichiro Takahashi, the other founding member of Circuitry. The two programmers had met in an introductory computer science course back in their days at Tokyo University, where they had been lab partners. They had remained friends after finishing the course, and both had discovered darkside hacking around the same time, albeit for very different reasons. Takahashi carried a grudge against the software industry, especially Macrosoft Corporation (makers of the ubiquitous "Doorways" operating system) because of their failure to follow up on a job they promised him after his internship. He also viewed cybercrime as a way to make easy money. Kojima, on the other hand, was motivated primarily by his longtime obsession with breaking complex systems. Ever since he was a young child, he had been fascinated with mechanical chaos, and he loved to figure out novel ways to cause it. He was a brilliant programmer -- a prodigy -- and he also had a knack with hardware. He could have easily used his skills to hunt down and fix problems, but instead he used them to inflict damage. This alone made him a perfect Black Hat, but Kojima was also extremely competitive by nature, leaving no doubt as to how he would be using his talents. He aimed to be the best in the underground -- Takahashi, as the one most privy to Kojima's inner world, vividly remembers one time when his friend turned to him and said "I want there to be no question in anyone's mind that I am the best in this game. I want them to bow down to me and call me the God of Entropy."

Takahashi had called Kojima to warn him that he was running a bit late to the meeting. Kojima ran Circuitry business like a military operation, and Takahashi knew from experience that he didn't exactly have a high tolerance for when things deviated from the plan.

"Dragonfly!" said Takahashi, "You're never going to believe this. All the subway stations in Shibuya are closed off! Police barricades everywhere! Apparently, some clown decided to call in a bomb threat. The lines for the elevated trams are halfway around the block, so I'm stuck here trying to flag down a taxi. It'll probably be a while before I can get over to Akihabara."

Kojima leaned against a cherry tree growing in the alley. "Don't worry about it," he said. "Ningyo Hime's putting on the Dolphin Festival, and it's doing a fine job of tying me up as well."

Takahashi laughed. "That explains why you've been shouting!"

"Yeah, it's loud as hell."

"I bet -- Hey, here comes a taxi! See you later!"

Kojima heard a click before the line went dead. He stuffed the phone into his pocket and stepped out of the alley just in time to collide with a partygoer on his way in, presumably to puke. The inebriated man grabbed Kojima by the shoulders and yelled "VIVA DENKI GAI!" right in his face. Kojima recoiled in horror and disgust, pushing the man away and backing blindly into the street. He turned and continued walking toward his destination, unconsciously picking up speed as he went on. The sooner he could get out of that noisy, filthy crowd the better.

A few moments later, the bright lights of Cyberpunk's main entrance were in view. Kojima straightened his clothes and tried to look confident. Inwardly, he felt irritated and frazzled, but he wasn't about to let Circuitry know -- it was time for business now. He went up to the door, bypassing the queue lined up to get in. The bouncer recognized him as a VIP and stepped aside, winking at the programmer on his way by. "You'll like the new ones, boy. Just don't break 'em before anyone else can have a go!"

"Pig," thought Kojima. He had never liked that guy.

The club was crowded, but at least it was full of his kind of people. He made his way across the room, heading for Circuitry's usual table at the rear of the VIP area. Two other members -- Kenichi Nakashima and Keitaro Miyamori -- were already there, and Kojima took the chair between them. "Been here long?" he asked.

Nakashima shook his head. "Not at all. We haven't even had a chance to order anything yet."

"Well, that's no good now, is it?" said Kojima. He snapped his fingers, attracting the attention of a wide-eyed, dark-haired Persocom waitress a few feet away. She nodded and smiled. "One moment, sir." She had been folding napkins, and Kojima watched her as she struggled to remember where to put them away. She opened several drawers behind the bar, shut them, and blinked confusedly. She stared at the ground, frantically searching her hard drive. Suddenly, she shook her head and tossed the napkins into the sink. Noticing Kojima staring at her, she smiled at him again and walked over.

"I shouldn't have kept you waiting. I'm very sorry," said the Persocom. "How can I serve you?"

Kojima grinned at her. "Well, you can start by getting us some drinks, and we'll see where things go from there." He grabbed her hand and kissed it. She giggled and nodded enthusiastically. "What would you like me to bring you, sir?" she asked.

"I'll have your best sake. Warm. And I mean most expensive, not most popular," said Kojima. "Nakashima? Miyamori? Tell this lovely lady what you want."

"I'll just have a beer," said Miyamori. "Whatever's on special. I'm not as fancy as my friend here."

Kojima laughed. "It's not my fault you have no sense of culture!"

Miyamori cackled and snorted.

"See? You're only proving my point now!" said Kojima, smirking. "Nakashima?"

"I'm fine, I don't need anything right now, thanks."

"Oh, come on!" teased Kojima. "Have a little fun for once!"

"Not this time, Dragonfly," said Nakashima. "I have an exam tomorrow morning."

"Oh, that's right! I keep forgetting you're still at University!"

The Persocom tapped Kojima on the shoulder. "Is that all?" she asked.

"Hey, I'm so sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to ignore you like that. Yes, that's all." He waved her away. "Hurry back, now." She turned and walked quickly to the bar, handing her notes to the man behind the counter.

Of all the nightspots in Akihabara, Cyberpunk was the most infamous. There were plenty of places that played up their alleged reputations for excess -- they were pretty much a dime a dozen in the area -- but almost all of them were tourist traps catering to foreigners that wanted a taste of Tokyo's naughty side. Cyberpunk, on the other hand, stopped those types at the front door. As the social epicenter of Japan's digital underworld, it was in the club's best interest to keep outsiders where they belonged. Employing a constantly rotating staff of beautiful Persocom showgirl-waitresses (who could be "had" for a minimal fee) and Akihabara's best DJs, Cyberpunk was a dangerous playground for the area's elite.

After some time had passed, the dark-haired Persocom girl returned with the drinks. She had gotten the orders right, but she handed the beer to Kojima and the sake to Miyamori. Kojima quickly switched the drinks, but not before the girl noticed. "Oh, please forgive me! I knew that wasn't right! I just forget things sometimes..." She got on her knees and pouted, probably expecting to be struck as she undoubtedly had been before. Instead, Kojima reached out and touched her cheek. "It's alright. I'm not angry with you," he said. "What's your name?"

"They call me Mei-Mei," she replied.

Kojima smiled. "Mei-Mei. That's a beautiful name." He motioned for her to get up. "Why don't you go bring us our bill."

She walked off, and Kojima turned to his associates. "She's infected. Real bad. It's classic Kojitron." He sounded giddy.

Nakashima nodded. "You'd know, after all. You created that monster."

"Kojitron" was a common nickname for DWYS/Koji.A, a destructive virus currently on a rampage through Asia. Causing severe data loss, characteristic memory decay, and eventual system failure, Koji.A was without a doubt the most feared piece of malware currently in the wild. Syntech Corporation, which had first isolated the virus several years prior, had chosen the name because they had found the watermark "KOJI" embedded several places in the code. It was commonly referred to as "Persocom AIDS," a nod not only to the kind of damage it caused but also to how it tended to spread. After Kojima had finished writing it, he had set it loose on a peer-to-peer filesharing network, where it quickly took off. Filesharing was a lot like sharing needles -- for a brief moment, users entangled their insides without any protection at all. A direct link was the quickest way to move content between systems, but that also meant that bugs would be spread just as quickly as all those pirated movies and porn videos. Kojima knew this, and he didn't hesitate to take advantage of the opportunity. However, Kojitron had flourished beyond his wildest expectations. It systematically destroyed all security software on affected systems within the first few hours of infection, and neither Syntech nor any other antivirus company had been able to figure out how to make their products resistant to its effects even years after it had appeared on the scene. Syntech had made a press release a year prior that promised the virus writer amnesty and a permanent job with the company if they came forward with a solution that would end the carnage, but Kojima didn't know how to stop his creation even if he had wanted to. It was out of control.

"Don't say that so loud, Nakashima. Anyone could be sitting at the next table. I don't want the media all over me," said Kojima. He narrowed his left eye. "As I was saying, this girl is really far gone. She's had the virus for a long time, her memory is just about destroyed. She probably doesn't have much time left." He raised the cup of sake to his lips. "I don't usually get to see cases that have progressed this much. This is a rare treat for me, to be able to see my creation in the final stages."

At that moment, Mei-Mei came back around with the bill. She placed it on the table and turned to Kojima. "Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked.

"Well," replied the Black Hat. "How would you like to go on break for a while? I'll let you sit on my lap."

Mei-Mei, delighted that this important-looking man was happy with her service, let out a little squeal. She sat down on Kojima's knee, and the Black Hat held her stomach with both hands. She was abnormally warm, and he sniffed roughly to stifle the nosebleed he felt coming on. He quickly turned his attention to business matters.

"So, let's talk about that relayer you wanted me to write."

"Yes, of course," said Miyamori. "You've finished it?"

"Yes," replied Kojima. "I have it on a flash drive right here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny metallic device. He tossed it on the table. Just as he was about to say a few words about the virus, Ichiro Takahashi walked up to the group, finally arriving after being stuck in traffic for nearly an hour.

"Good evening, Dragonfly," he said, "I see you've been unable to keep your hands to yourself, as usual." He motioned at Mei-Mei, who looked at him blankly. He then turned his attention to the other two programmers, who were inspecting the flash drive. "Is that the new relayer virus?"

"Yes," said Nakashima. "I think Dragonfly was going to tell us how it works just before you joined us."

"Oh, excellent!" exclaimed Takahashi.

Kojima shrugged. "Well, there's not really much to explain. It's a generic personal-data relayer, a keylogger. I dressed it up with a new polymorphic algorithm to make it less likely to be detected, so hopefully it will last longer in the field than most other relayers. I also wanted to spite Kokubunji, who said he'd be able to crack it the minute we release it. I hope he has lots of fun with that!" The Black Hat laughed and took another sip of his drink.

"Well, I hope your efforts pay off," said Takahashi. "Literally."

Although he hadn't told anyone yet, Kojima had an ulterior motive for coming to Akihabara that evening. He just needed to approach it from the right angle...

His thoughts were interrupted when Mei-Mei fidgeted abruptly, possibly because of some kind of internal discomfort. She noticed him looking at her, and she bit her lip, trying to process many things at once. "You never told me your name," she said. "You know I am Mei-Mei, but I don't know who you are." She played with her long dark hair.

"Well, you actually _do_ know me in a way, but you'd never understand if I told you," said Kojima. Mei-Mei turned her head to one side, trying to mull things over and not really succeeding. "My name is Yoshiyuki Kojima, but you can call me Dragonfly."

"Kojima. Dragonfly," said Mei-Mei.

"That's right!" Kojima replied in a childish voice. He gave her a squeeze, and she giggled.

"Dragonfly," said Miyamori, "How do you suggest we spread this thing? Peer-to-peer? E-mail? Message boards?"

"Oh, I don't know," Kojima lazily replied. "Do whatever you think will get the job done." He took another drink. "Well, I hate to change the subject on you, but there's something I've been meaning to discuss."

Takahashi leaned forward. "Is this another one of your cinematic schemes?"

Kojima put his head in his hands, pretending to be ashamed. "Guilty. Guilty as charged."

"I know you all too well," said Takahashi. "I knew you wouldn't write our boring keylogger without expecting something in return. So, you want our help with some grandiose plan or something?"

Kojima smirked. "I don't understand why everything has to be about money with you. Don't you ever want to do something for the challenge, just to prove that you can?"

"Let me think for a moment," said Takahashi. "Nope. If I can't get paid for it, why would I waste my time? I don't have a real job, you know, and neither do you. We make our money off the stupidity of the masses."

"Yes, money is important," replied Kojima, "but there's nothing quite like the rush I get from doing something or going somewhere seemingly impossible. It's the perfect drug! I just don't see how you can't live for the high!"

"Alright, Dragonfly, no need for a lecture," said Takahashi. "Tell us about your plan."

Kojima was almost unable to keep his composure. A boyish grin was plastered on his face, and he was nearly shaking with excitement. "I want to take out the National Databank."

His three associates stared at him.

"What?" asked Nakashima, incredulous.

"Like, with a denial-of-service attack?" said Takahashi. "Or...wait a minute...you don't mean you want to..."

"Yes," said Kojima.

Takahashi's eyes widened. "You're crazy! You can't get into the system, and even if you could, why would you do something like that? Even _attempting_ to break into the system is a federal offense, and I don't even want to think about what would happen if we damaged it!"

"You say it's impossible, just like everyone else," said Kojima. "And that's exactly why I want to try."

"Well, you'll have to do it without us," said Nakashima. "Going after the Databank is just asking to be caught!"

"Yeah, and the security system on that thing is insane!" added Miyamori. "I had a friend who tried it once, just to see what it knew about him, and it destroyed every piece of equipment he owned! He's just lucky the federal police didn't break down his door!"

Kojima was disappointed in his friends, and more than a little angry. "You people are lazy! You only do what's easy! Darkside hacking used to be about the thrill of the hunt, breaking into systems thought uncrackable and then taking them down! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"This isn't the 20th Century, Dragonfly. Things have changed," said Takahashi. "This is a for-profit game now, I've told you dozens of times."

Kojima stared at the three programmers. "Well, I guess I'm the last of my kind."

He stood up, still holding Mei-Mei's waist. "Let's go home, little one," he whispered to her. He looked at Takahashi one last time before walking away. "Coward."

Ichiro Takahashi just shook his head.


	6. Ursa Major

Chapter Six: Ursa Major

"Kojima Dragonfly?" asked a small voice. "Where are we going?"

The programmer looked into the dim light of the taxicab and found Mei-Mei staring at him, her eyes wide.

"To my place," he replied. "In Roppongi."

"Roppongi..." said Mei-Mei, her voice trailing off.

"Have you been there before?" asked Kojima. He was humoring her. He knew full well that the virus was erasing the links her operating system used for long-term memory. The word "Roppongi" might have some residual meaning to her, some ghost bouncing around in her emptying mind, but she would never be able to pin it down.

"No...maybe...I don't know," she said. "If I have, it was a long time ago, and I'm always forgetting things." She lowered her head for a moment, then looked up at him. "I look forward to seeing it with you, Kojima Dragonfly."

Kojima reached out and took her hand. "And I can't _wait_ to show it to you."

Just then, the taxi pulled over to the curb and stopped. "New Roppongi Hills?" asked the driver, turning around to face the backseat. Kojima nodded and handed him the payment, throwing in a few more yen for a tip. He opened the door and helped his companion to her feet, relieved to finally be free of the stuffy air in the cab.

New Roppongi Hills was a state-of-the-art residential high rise that had been built on the site of a similar complex from the early 21st Century. Featuring all the latest integrated technology and high-end amenities, it was one of the most coveted places to live in Tokyo. Naturally, Kojima had booked an apartment when it existed only as a plastic model in an architecture show. "I know quality when I see it," he had said.

The elevator stopped at his floor and he got out, taking Mei-Mei's hand and smiling at her. "Almost there!" he said in a purposely cheeky voice. When they finally got to his apartment, Kojima placed his hand on the fingerprint scanner and the door slid open. The lights turned on immediately when they stepped inside, and the sound system queued up one of Kojima's favorite albums. "There's no living like New Roppongi Hills living!" he shouted into the empty room, quoting the latest advertising campaign. Mei-Mei giggled. Kojima was glad his Persocoms were in other rooms and out of sight -- he didn't need them around to interfere.

"This is a very nice apartment, Kojima Dragonfly," said Mei-Mei, looking all around. "You're so lucky to live here. Not everyone in this city can afford such things."

Kojima loved having his ego stroked, even if the girl had likely been told to say those kinds of things to clients. "Thank you!" he said. "And it's just _Dragonfly_, by the way."

Mei-Mei's eyes widened. "Oh, dear. It looks like I've gotten mixed up again. Do forgive me, Dragonfly."

"So it goes," said Kojima. "It's alright."

He hadn't been able to get a good look at her before, in the strange green glow of Club Cyberpunk and then in the darkness of the cab. She was strikingly beautiful, with porcelain-colored skin, green eyes, and a wide but delicate face. Her hair, which had looked black before, was actually a deep ginger-brown and in a very modern style -- long, straight, and flowing with an odd little patch of bangs longer than the rest. Her Persocom ears were very well hidden. If she were human, Kojima would assume she was of Slavic ancestry. She just had that look about her.

"Want to see the rest of the place?" he asked, not really meaning it as a question. "Let's go to my study."

Mei-Mei nodded and followed him inside. She was immediately drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the entire wall on the far side of the room, and walked over for a closer look. Kojima watched as she pressed her hands against the glass, leaning forward and looking down at the street below. "See anything interesting?" he asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs that faced the scene.

"I like this part of the city," said Mei-Mei. "It's very clean and nice, not like Akihabara."

Kojima laughed. "Well, _anything's_ cleaner than Akiba." He opened the cabinet underneath the table next to him and pulled out a glass and a bottle of port wine. He popped the cork and Mei-Mei watched as he filled the glass. "I'd offer you some, you know, but it's not as if it would do much for you, being a Persocom and all."

The girl smiled. "Of course." She motioned at the empty chair on the other side of the table. "Dragonfly, is it alright if I sit down?"

Kojima laughed to himself. Persocoms and their formalities. "Yes, you don't have to ask."

She sat down, her dark gingery hair falling in her face as she leaned against the arm of the chair to face him. He wanted to touch her, but he restrained himself for now. "You know something, Mei-Mei?" He swished the wine in his glass. "I'm bored. Restless. I have money, yes, but that can only do so much for me."

The girl just stared at him in response. He didn't even know if she could comprehend what he was saying, but it didn't really matter to him.

"I should be satisfied. I'm a fucking _legend_!" He let out a dark little laugh. "I mean, do you even _know_ who you're talking to?!"

Those same wide, green eyes.

"I set out to own this world, and some might say I do. But I just get so _itchy_ sometimes. I want more. I want a real challenge. I want to be like those guys from the 20th Century, back when this game had some teeth. Like Takahashi said, it's all about the money now. Where, I ask you, is the fun in that?"

Mei-Mei didn't know what to say. After all, situations like this weren't exactly in her programming. "I'm guessing from what you've told me that it isn't fun at all," she finally said. "But what do I know of it?"

"Oh, Mei-Mei! You have no idea!" Kojima stood up and went over to her, unable to resist any longer. He knelt in front of her and lightly touched her on the cheek. "If you only knew what's at work here! You have the answer to your question _inside_ of you. You're living proof of what happens when someone like me follows their passions." He kissed her ear. "If you only _knew_." He moved his hands down her neck and unfastened the top button of her dress.

Suddenly, a loud beeping noise issued from the mainframe computer on the desk.

"You've got to be kidding me!" exclaimed the Black Hat. "Don't move. I'll be right back."

Kojima got up off the floor and made his way across the room. "This better be good," he muttered. When he got to the machine, he could see that it was an international video call. "Origin, please?" he asked.

"Moldova," replied the phone software's Virtual Operator. "The caller declined to provide their name."

"Connect, please," said Kojima. A window opened on the desktop and the image of a small, sharp-featured young man soon appeared. Kojima adjusted his glasses. "Ursa Major! What the hell do you want, calling me at this hour?"

"Ursa Major" was the handle used by Vadim Medvedev, a Russian-born hacker currently holed up in Chisinau. He had fled Moscow about a decade earlier when one of his exploits attracted the attention of the Federal Security Bureau. In the years since then, he had been responsible for a few respectably-sized viral outbreaks while working both alone and with the Moldova-based ring "Eastern Chaos Society." He had crossed paths with Kojima a few years back, after common interests and pursuits brought them together. Medvedev shared Kojima's reckless spirit and obsession with the "bad old days" of darkside hacking.

"What, I'm not allowed to catch up with my friends?" asked Medvedev, his accent heavy.

"Not if your friend is about to have a bit of fun, if you know what I mean!" said Kojima.

Medvedev smirked. "Ah, I get you! You've got a special someone over there?"

"You could say that," said Kojima. "But you still haven't told me why you're calling me, especially since video is a premium where you're at."

"Well," said Medvedev, scratching his head. "Some things were said by a certain someone at a certain BBS, and I want to know if they were just blowing smoke."

Kojima rolled his eyes. "Lots of things get said on boards, and most of it is absolutely worthless. Why do you need me to tell you that?"

"Because this involves your close associate, Ichiro Takahashi."

"Oh, did he go shooting his mouth off again? He really got on my nerves earlier tonight."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah, you know how he gets. If it's not immediately profitable, he doesn't want anything to do with it. Greedy bastard."

"So it _is_ true!" Medvedev raised his eyebrows.

Kojima was beginning to lose what little patience he had. "Just get to the point, already, will you?!"

"Ichiro was on my BBS a little while ago, looking for spyware programs. We got to talking, and I mentioned you in passing. Much to my surprise, he started ranting on and on about how you live in a fantasy world where it's always the 1990's. I couldn't understand everything he said, but I did catch something about a so-called 'delusional plan' you supposedly have up your sleeve." Medvedev grinned. "What is it? If it got Ichiro that agitated, it must be pretty spectacular."

So _that's_ what this was about. Kojima leaned forward. "I know you, my Russian friend. You're just like me. Once I tell you about this, it's a one-way trip. Are you in, or are you out?"

"You're making me decide before I even hear what it is?"

"Yes."

"You're insane."

"So, you're in, then?"

"Guess so. Now tell me what I just got myself into."

"I'm going to take down the National Databank of Japan, and you're going to help me do it."

"Oh, shit!" Medvedev got up and began pacing back and forth in front of the camera. "Kojima!"

"Now, don't go feeding me those lines about how the system is impenetrable -- everything has a weak point somewhere." Kojima narrowed his eyes. "I know what you're thinking."

"I can see why Ichiro had a fit. This is big. Real big."

"But you _know_ you want to do it."

"What's your plan?"

Kojima smiled. "First we break in, then we leave it a little something special from the two of us."

"I like the way you think," said Medvedev. "Let's give it a go."

"You'll be hearing from me soon."

Kojima closed the window and switched off the machine. Mei-Mei was still sitting where he'd left her, gaze fixed on the city outside. He crept up behind her and covered her eyes with one hand. "Now, where were we?"


	7. Deluge

Chapter Seven – Deluge

_Bombardment._

_Siege._

_Onslaught._

_Barrage._

Jima scoured his vocabulary software, trying to find as many words as he could to describe what the government was doing to him. It was the only way he could distract himself enough to avoid concentrating on the massive amount of pressure the data transfer was putting on his system. Sometimes, he wondered if the technicians back at the Ministry forgot that he actually had to _process_ the information they threw at him, not just receive it. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth as his internal temperature rose.

_Deluge._

_Tempest._

_Torrent._

Dita knelt next to him, holding his hand. She could tell he was really struggling, and it frightened her. "It's going to be alright," she said, tightening her grip. "Soon it will be over." She hoped he didn't notice the panic in her voice. At times, she found herself wishing she could throw the government out of him as if they were an intruder. The technicians didn't respect him, or at least most of them didn't. Why was it so different if the pain was caused by someone who had clearance?

Noticing her agitation, Jima attempted a smile. He wanted to reassure her, to play-act that nothing was wrong, but he found it hard to speak in his current condition. He had no energy to waste on words. Except, of course, for the ones spinning around in his head.

_Downpour._

_Assault._

Right then, the Ministry drove up the bitrate. More and more data was crammed into Jima's boiling system, effectively paralyzing him. Platters squealed and processors sizzled. Sensory functions began to shut down. His cooling system cramped and shuddered as it tried to compensate for the pressure. His breathing became shallow as he worked, without success, to expel the excess heat.

_Demolition._

_Annihilation._

_Obliteration._

Dita's eyes widened as she made an immediate move toward her connection line. She unwound it with a single, unconscious swipe and jammed it into Jima's ear. "That's enough."

"No," said Jima, his speech strained. "Too dangerous."

"I don't care," answered Dita. "They're doing serious harm to your system. I'm obligated to protect you, even if it's from the ones who gave me that order."

It didn't take her long to stop the transfer. First, she located the Ministry's connection and terminated it. She was tempted to send a small pulse -- they needed a taste of their own medicine -- but was able to resist. Then, she concentrated on finding a way to help Jima cope with the data he still needed to process. Unfortunately, she was unable to lift the burden by taking files into her own system -- a security mechanism rendered her physically incapable of accepting inbound traffic. She could, however, access and move files within _Jima's_ system. Knowing this, she began sorting files into categories for him to finish filing, feeding them over to him when she was finished. He was able to accept and hold the data, but his breathing stayed rapid and his eyes remained fixed. Dita pulled his head into her lap, her line still connected.

"It's over now," she whispered. "The danger has passed." She gently covered his eyes. "Try to relax and let your system recover."

Jima groaned, still reeling. He didn't know what time it was, or even _where_ he was for that matter. All he could remember was starting the transfer and then his system seizing on him. There was a big piece taken out of the middle, and he found that very disturbing. Not really wanting to think about it, he buried his face into the soft fabric of Dita's coat, his energy wholly depleted. He could feel himself shutting down, and he didn't resist.

Dita's insides twisted into a knot. It upset her that the government could be so reckless. Jima was a critical server, vital to the operations of the Ministry, yet they were slowly destroying his health. She looked down at him, suddenly aware of how he was still clutching her despite being asleep. "No wonder Koyomi didn't want you to take this job," she muttered.

Koyomi Hayashida was Director of Technology Research at the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications. Six years before, she had presided over a government-funded effort to create the most advanced supercomputer ever built. The goal of the project was to finally create a machine that could pass the legendary Turing Test. This goal was ultimately reached, but not until after the project was merged with a concurrent effort to develop a nationwide databank to analyze and hold all the Ministry's information along with that of the Public Security Intelligence Agency. Koyomi had opposed the merger from the very beginning out of concern for her creation, but the order had come from her superiors and the matter was out of her hands.

Dita looked out across the rooftop, absentmindedly playing with Jima's hair. The city was hazy in the midday sun, and she was starting to feel all the work she'd just done catching up with her. She unplugged the connection, then pushed her sunglasses down over her eyes and leaned against the wall of the roof garden, fatigue getting the best of her.

--

It was after sunset before Jima finally stirred. He sat up slowly, taking care not to wake his protector. His entire body ached, and it took him a moment to remember the afternoon's transfer and how Dita had helped him through it. He rubbed his temples, trying to avoid thinking about the moment the download overwhelmed him. The pain was all too fresh in his memory. He wondered if he ought to check his disks for errors -- things were moving awfully slow -- but he only had so much energy and didn't want to waste it.

Thinking he might feel better once he got on his feet, Jima reached for a low pipe running from the side of the building and pulled himself up. The moment he let go, however, his head spun with dizziness and he fell backwards, one hand landing in a puddle of warm liquid. Surprised, he quickly pulled it away. At the same time, he suddenly became aware of his coat, heavy and sticking to his back. He frowned and reached around to touch it. Soaked. "Hmmm, that's not good," he muttered to himself. He cupped his hand and scooped some liquid from the puddle, letting it run through the cracks between his fingers. It had a slippery, soapy feel and a slight chemical odor -- he was losing coolant. "No, that's not good at all."

He tried standing up again, this time making it to his feet without stumbling. He held on to the pipe for a few moments until he was certain he wouldn't lose his balance again. When he felt strong enough, he let go and walked to the edge of the roof, where there was a railing for him to hold onto. Staring out into the city lights, he tried to figure out what he should do next. There was, of course, a chance the issue was a fluke. The liquid appeared to be dripping from the pressure release valve located on his lower back. It led right into the reservoir and was the access point the technicians used to drain the fluid when they needed to work on his cooling system, but it also served as an overflow of last resort. He had been under so much stress during the transfer that it wasn't unreasonable that enough pressure could have built up in his system that it needed to let some fluid out to avoid damage. However, that much pressure could have just as easily blown right through the mechanism, putting a hole in his reservoir. In that case, he was in trouble.

He glanced over at Dita, who was still curled up near the roof garden. He didn't want to wake her up and give her the bad news, but then again it would be pretty hard to hide a coolant leak. Besides, she had all the diagnostic programs -- she was the only one who would be able to tell him what was really happening. He sighed and let go of the railing, figuring it was better to play it safe. He was starting to feel a little warm, and he wasn't sure if it was just in his head or not.

Jima walked back over to where Dita lie and sat beside her. He lightly kissed her on the cheek and she woke immediately. She took off her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes, then looked around until she found Jima. He looked concerned.

"I'm sorry to wake you, love," he said, "but I'm having a bit of a problem."

Dita felt a twinge of panic. "What is it?" she asked, her voice betraying her thoughts. "What's the matter?"

Jima hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to tell her. Finally, he decided to just do what came naturally and leaned his head against her neck. "I'm having an issue with my cooling system," he whispered. He found one of her hands and took it in his, carefully touching it to his coolant-soaked jacket. Dita gasped and tried to stand up, but Jima held onto her and she couldn't escape. He leaned in close. "Please don't get all upset over this," he said. "It's just something we need to take care of together." He didn't want her to panic -- if she started, he feared he would too. "Can you check me out? I'd like to know what's really going on in there."

Dita looked a bit stunned but reached for her connection line. "Of course," she stammered, "I'll handle this." She connected for the second time that day, settling into the familiar coding of Jima's system. The database server relaxed, surrendering all control to her. She decided to first perform a full diagnostic scan, searching for signs of hardware problems or mechanical distress. If there was one problem, there could be others. She initialized the scan and waited uneasily for the results.

**SYSTEM BOARD: OK**

**CPU 1: OK**

**CPU 2: OK**

**CPU 3: OK**

**CPU 4: OK**

**CPU 5: OK**

**DISK ARRAY: OK**

**SECONDARY HARD DISK: OK**

**OPERATING SYSTEM AND FUNCTIONS: OK**

**I/O INTERFACE: OK**

**COMMUNICATION DEVICES: OK**

**PRIMARY COOLING SYSTEM: ERROR: LOW COOLANT**

**SYSTEM TEMPERATURE: HIGH**

To her relief, the scan didn't tell her anything she didn't already know. She couldn't get too comfortable, however, since she still didn't know the severity of the coolant leak. Actually, without knowing how much fluid he'd lost, she couldn't even tell whether he was really leaking or not.

She pulled up the status menu for the cooling system and poured over the data. All components were functional and pressure was at the low end of normal, but fluid levels were at sixty percent. _Not good_. Dita cringed, knowing that it wasn't likely he'd lose forty percent of his coolant in just a few hours without having a hole somewhere. She disconnected and looked up at him. "Bad news. You've definitely got a leak."

"Alright, then, that's my diagnosis," said Jima. "What happens now?"

Dita was astounded at how calm he was being. He was certainly taking this situation better than she was. She was on the verge of falling apart. "We have a few different options," she said, trying to sound collected. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, a little down, but I think I'll be alright," he replied. "How much fluid do I have left?"

"You're at sixty percent."

"And my temperature?"

"High, but not dangerously so."

Jima stretched his arms behind his head and leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes, mulling over the information she'd given him. "I see."

Dita got up and began pacing, as she always did when she was distressed. "We have to get you to the Ministry. This is beyond what I can take care of in the field."

"Don't doubt yourself, love," said Jima. "You know my system just as well, if not better, than they do. And besides, aren't you always going on about how they don't respect me? Why do you trust them with this more than yourself?"

"It's not about trust!" exclaimed Dita, frustrated. "They have equipment over there that could get this fixed within minutes."

Jima stood up, still leaning against the wall. He caught Dita as she paced by and pressed her against his body. She could feel how warm he was, and she turned a bit crimson in spite of herself. "I'm due back in the lab in about a week and a half for a scheduled maintenance check. If I'm careful -- and you help me -- I think I should be able to hold out until then."

"What?!" snapped Dita. "You're insane! Are you grasping this situation? Do you understand what will happen to you if you run out of fluid? Thermal runaway!"

Jima smiled weakly. "Yes, but there's no reason for me to run out of fluid. We have plenty, you know, at our place in Roppongi. We could go there tonight. I could get some rest and you could take care of me..." He gently placed his hand on the back of her head.

"You're so stubborn," said Dita. She couldn't believe she was even _considering_ this. "And totally irresponsible."

"Oh, you know you like me!" he teased. Mechanical problems weren't going to take away his mischievous streak.

"I don't know why I'm letting you talk me into this, but I guess we can give it a try," said Dita. "Theoretically, as long as nothing happens that causes your system more stress, you should be fine as long as you take it easy and I keep an eye on your temperature."

Jima kissed her forehead. "You'll make an excellent technician, love. Have confidence."

Dita blushed harder. "Do you have enough energy to make the trip tonight, or do you want to wait until tomorrow? It's all up to you -- I don't want to make you do something you can't handle."

"Let's go now," he replied. "As much as I love the city air, it will be nice to sleep indoors for once. Besides, I'm sure you're anxious to get some more fluid in me."

"You know me so well," said Dita, stifling a smile. "Let's go."


End file.
